Falling Slowly
by clairemarie91
Summary: Ada asks Tommy for a favor that ends up turning his life upside-down. Tommy x James.


**London, 1923**

Tommy checked his pocket watch for the fifth time since he'd sat down. 4:13. Ada had asked him to meet her at the coffeehouse at 4, and unsurprisingly, she was late. Didn't she realize he had things to do, people to see, and forms to sign? She seemed to live in her own world most of the time… and clocks had little meaning there.

With a jingle the coffeehouse door opened and she burst into the room, small but full of frenetic energy, casting her gaze around hurriedly and then spotting him. Her eyes were bright, but apologetic. "Tommy!" she called out, drawing stares from the place's other patrons.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and she descended upon him like a bird, coat flying behind her like wings as she bent down to kiss his cheek.

"I'm sorry I'm late; they kept me late at the library because of some awful old bird who was complaining about our having D.H. Lawrence books - she thinks they're smutty, which, well I suppose they are, but it's literature you know, and -"

"Ada," Tommy said, raising a hand to pause her babbling. "It's fine."

"You're not drinking anything," she said, looking at the empty table in front of him.

"I don't have long," he replied. "I'm on the late train back to Birmingham tonight and I still have business here."

"One coffee, Tom. Please?" Her eyes were earnest and sparkling.

He should have said no, but then, he was never good at saying no to her. "One coffee," he agreed. "What'll you have?"

"Oh, I'll take care of it-"

"I've got it, Ada. What do you want?"

She looked down at her hands self-consciously. _Pick your battles, Ada._ It was something he'd tried to impart on her from early childhood, but she still seemed to be learning it.

"Cafe au lait," she replied. "No sugar."

Tommy nodded and approached the counter. When he returned with coffees in hand, she seemed to have calmed slightly, and was fixing her hair in her compact mirror. He set the cup in front of her and she grinned up at him gratefully.

"Thanks, Tommy," she said, snapping her compact closed. "And thanks for meeting me."

He waved her thanks away like a bothersome gnat. "What did you want to talk about?"

"No small talk first?" she laughed. "How was work today? How about this wet weather?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Ada…" he warned.

"All right, all right," she said. "You're a busy man. I'll get to it."

"Please," he said, taking a small sip of coffee and avoiding the urge to wrinkle his nose. He hated the stuff. Maybe if he added a bit of whiskey-

"Well you see, it's about James."

"Your renter?"

"My _friend_ ," she corrected. "But yes, that's the one."

"What about him?"

Ada paused here and fiddled with the clasp of her handbag. "I'm a bit… worried about him."

Tommy took another grimacing sip of coffee and waited for her to continue.

"You know London's a bit more progressive than Birmingham, but there are still some people who have been giving him a hard time because of his preferences." She stared at Tommy meaningfully, even fiercely. "Which is ridiculous of course," she snapped, as though it had been Tommy committing offenses against her friend. "It's none of their business what James does in his personal time."

Tommy nodded again, failing to see what this had to do with him. He wondered if he could check his watch again without Ada noticing.

"Anyway, I just thought that maybe if you were to… _be seen_ with James, people would be less likely to give him a hard time. You know. If they think you're his friend," Ada finished, her cheeks flushing pink.

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to ward off the impending headache. "Ada," he said. "What are you on about?"

"He's my friend, Tommy! And after he helped you with - well, whatever that was, I think you owe him a good turn!"

"I don't _do_ good turns, Ada," Tommy replied. "I don't have time, and frankly, I don't have the desire."

Ada scoffed. "I ought to have known. I'm sure the great Thomas Shelby doesn't want people thinking he's a-"

" _That's not what I'm saying,_ " Tommy hissed before she could finish her sentence. "I don't have time to go gallivanting around London. That's what I'm saying. If there's someone in particular you'd like me to have a word with, I'd be happy to, but I'm not about to spend an evening out on the town with your friend just because you tell me to."

"I'm not telling you to," she shot back. "I'm asking you to."

Tommy considered just saying no. He didn't owe Ada anything, he didn't have time, and he certainly didn't owe James anything, no matter what Ada said. All he'd done was stand outside a door. But that was part of the magic of Ada. She wasn't like Polly, who wanted things her way out of pride. Ada was always trying to do _good_ , and it made anyone who didn't go along with her seem bad. Combined with the fact that she was the last person on earth whose opinion Tommy cared about, she was indeed impossible to say no to.

"Fine," he begrudged. "I'll get the train out tomorrow."

"Oh, Tommy. Thank you," she gushed. "I'll set up the guest bedroom for you."

He mustered up a smile that was more of a grimace, then picked up his almost-full coffee cup and poured what was left into Ada's nearly-empty one. "This is disgusting, by the way."

After dinner (roast chicken, which Ada had cooked and everyone had picked at), Ada cast Tommy a meaningful glance. He glared back. He hadn't forgotten. She was so pushy. He cleared his throat.

"James," he said.

James looked up, wide-eyed. He always seemed slightly bewildered, at least when Tommy was around, and Tommy couldn't help wondering how someone like that had survived this far in the world.

"Do you have plans tonight?" Tommy asked.

"Er, nothing concrete…" he James vaguely. "Do you… need something?"

"I just thought since Ada has to stay in with Karl that maybe you could show me where the nearest pub is," he said, meeting James' eyes firmly. Perhaps too firmly, for James almost visibly recoiled as though Tommy had threatened him.

"I, er…"

"You should go," Ada encouraged. "Poor Tommy only ever works when he visits. That must be why he hates London so much," she said with a wink.

"All right," James agreed, though his face was almost green. "I'll just go change my shirt."

He disappeared up the stairs and Tommy cast an irritated glance in Ada's direction. "He looks thrilled."

"You should be less stern!" she scolded.

"I wasn't being stern!"

"He's a writer, Tommy. He's very sensitive."

Tommy felt the headache from earlier coming back on. James came down the stairs carrying a ragged-looking wool coat on his arm. Tommy stood and went to retrieve his own coat from the hook by the door.

"You two have fun, then," Ada said, sounding for all the world like a doting mother. She kissed both their cheeks and practically pushed them out the door into the cool winter evening.

For a moment, James stared at the door that had been slammed decisively in their faces. "D'you think she was trying to get rid of us?" James asked.

"Seemed that way, didn't it?" Tommy replied in a low voice.

James turned to look at Tommy. "Think she's seeing someone?"

Tommy smirked. "If she was, I assure you I'd be the last to know."

"Shall we then?" James asked, nodding his head in the direction of the pub. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I love Ada, you know I do, but her cooking…"

"She burns toast. I don't trust her anywhere near a chicken."

James chuckled, some of the color returning to his face. Either he was getting more comfortable or he was cold.

"Lead the way," Tommy said.

They began to head west. The night was young, and people littered the streets, chatting in groups as they made their way to restaurants and clubs. It struck Tommy how much more carefree people seemed in London. In Birmingham, there was scarcely a smile to be seen. Here, the women dressed in bright colors and saturated makeup, and their laughter rang through the evening like church bells. Ada was wrong. He didn't hate London because of work. He hated it because of the artifice, the denial. Birmingham may have been dingy, but at least it was honest.

Thankfully, the pub James was leading them to wasn't over the top in the slightest. It was, in fact, the kind of place where James' coat wouldn't look out of place. The upholstery in the booths was similarly frayed and worn, and the gold sconces on the wall were tarnished, the mirror above the bar cracked in places and spotted in others.

Tommy did a quick assessment of the room before sitting. The Blinders had more power than ever before, and Tommy was protected by that power, but it was a habit he hadn't been able to shake since returning from France. The pub's patrons appeared mostly harmless - old men talking over a pint, a few younger man looking fresh out of a factory. They approached the bar to order - James a pint and a shepherd's pie, Tommy an Irish whiskey. Then they sat across from each other in a booth in the far corner, Tommy sitting facing the door.

"So, James," Tommy said. "Did you grow up in London?"

James skittered his fingers along the tabletop as though it were a typewriter. "Yeah," he replied. "Born and raised."

"What did your father do for work?"

James laughed softly. "I don't know," he said, looking at Tommy with a crooked smile. "Dad ran off."

"I know all about that," Tommy replied. The barmaid approached, placing his whiskey in front of him. She was a tall brunette, broad in the shoulders. Even so, he felt the smallest of twinges in his chest, which he chased away with the burning warmth of whiskey. "Siblings?"

James shook his head. "Just me."

"Sounds easy," Tommy said.

"Lonely," James commented.

Tommy was surprised by his honesty. "I wouldn't know about that," he replied, choosing to match frankness with frankness. "When I was a boy I'd have to sneak out just to get a moment to myself. I'd go sit by the cut and watch the boats just for a bit of silence.

James smiled into his beer glass. "Doesn't mean you've never been lonely," he said. "It just means you've never been alone."

Tommy considered this quietly as he took a long, slow drink from his glass, emptying it. He set it down on the table, contemplating whether or not it was worth it to get up for a new one.

"Tommy," James said. "Ada put you up to this, didn't she?"

Tommy leveled him with a stare. It wasn't in him to lie about it.

James sighed. "She worries too much. You should hear her talk about you. 'I wonder if Tommy ever eats. He works too much. He's going to get himself into trouble,'" he quoted, smiling that crooked smile again. Tommy found himself matching it.

"And yet, it's not even half as much as I worry about her," Tommy said quietly. A few beats of silence passed. "James," he said. "Ada did put me up to it. But it's all right."

James looked at him curiously.

"She's got a good heart, Ada. She wants to help," said Tommy.

"That she does," James agreed.

"You and I both know Ada worries more than she ought to," Tommy said. "But James… is she right to worry?"

James looked down into his half-eaten shepherd's pie.

"Because if she is, I can help," Tommy continued. "You did me a favor once, James, and I haven't forgotten it. Ada's under certain protections that could extend to you."

James looked up and met Tommy's eyes. The lighter brown in them caught the dim lights of the pub and flashed enigmatically. "I'm not worth all that trouble," he said. "I've gotten by just fine till now. I'll keep getting by."

Tommy wondered how well he was getting by. Underneath his cavalier words there was a hint of pain, and to Tommy's great surprise, the sound of it provoked something within him. "The least I can do is keep my promise to Ada," he said.

"And what exactly was that?" James asked in a voice that was both amused and exhausted.

"That I'd be seen with you. She thinks if people know we're friends they'll leave you alone."

"We're friends?" James asked, his lifting his head up in surprise.

"Do we have a reason not to be?" Tommy countered.

"No, no," James said quickly. "I only mean… I don't know what I mean."

"We're friends," Tommy confirmed with a brusqueness that didn't quite match the sentiment. "So where do we go to be seen?"

James smiled. "Well, certainly not here," he admitted.

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" Tommy inquired, a smile gathering like a storm on the corner of his lips.

"Jesus," James replied with an incredulous laugh. "Fuck. No."

"Then let's go somewhere a little more lively, eh?" Tommy suggested. He decisively set a bill on the table, not giving James a moment to argue, and headed for the door with James awestruck behind him.


End file.
